Evening Delight
by UnaVitaSegreta
Summary: This is not a new story. I'm just trying to move everything to the same place. A rather dull evening in the Gilmore house turns exciting when Emily and Richard decide to spice things up a bit in the dining room. The story is set during early Season 7.


**Evening Delight**

"Richard, what do you think of this place setting?" Emily asked, loud enough for her husband to hear her from the living room.

Richard was trying to read the evening paper. He had spent all day dealing with young adults trying to convince him to up their grade on the first assignment. All he had thought about most of the afternoon was the idea of coming home and sitting on the couch with the Financial Times. It was Tuesday and the staff had the night off. The house was silent and peaceful, except for his wife yelling to him from the dining room.

"Richard! Can you not hear me?" Emily repeated. He could hear the sound of her shoes as she approached the living room. He groaned and tossed his paper aside, jumping to his feet before she entered the room. If she'd walked in on him reading the paper, she would surely have spent the rest of the night yelling at him for his impoliteness. As she walked into the living room, Richard met her in the doorway.

"I was just coming, dear," he said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.

"What are you doing in here? You've been sitting on that couch all evening!"

"Since dinner, Emily," he corrected her. "That was only two hours ago."

"Exactly, two hours ago, Richard! You have the company, Yale, and always make excuses about why you are too busy to go with me to a social event, yet you have time to sit on the couch and do nothing."

"I was not doing nothing, Emily. I was reading the paper."

"For two hours?"

"Yes, dear, for two hours." Her facial expression made him want to reply, but he held his tongue. The one thing he'd learned in forty years was that it was not usually possible to win an argument with his wife. If he wanted to have any semblance of a pleasant evening, he had learned to just keep quiet sometimes.

"Very well," she stated flatly as he followed her into the dining room. "Which place setting do you like?" she asked, gesturing towards the dining room table.

"They all look the same, Emily." He looked at three sets of dishes on the table. They were all the same.

"No, they are clearly not all the same, Richard. If you actually look at them, you'll see they are all indeed different."

"I am looking, Emily." He was slightly irritated that she'd called him in here to do such a silly task. "They all look the same to me."

Emily sighed. She pointed to the first set. "This one has a silver charger and a goblet wine glass." She pointed to the next one. "This one has a silver charger, but it has a pattern around the border and the napkin is a different color." She then pointed to the third and final set.

Richard interrupted her, "And that one has a green napkin with a thinner wine glass," he observed.

"Yes!" Emily replied, exasperated. They were both silent. "Well… which one, Richard? I don't have all night to sit around waiting for you to decide."

He was debating in his head. He knew that it was best to just answer her question and not make any comments about how silly this seemed. "I suppose that I like the second set the best. The plates remind me of when Trix used to throw dinner parties for her friends."

Emily groaned, rolling her eyes. How had he managed to give the wrong answer?

"Oh, nevermind, Richard," she stated, slightly bending over the table to pick up the dishes. She picked up the first set and disappeared into the kitchen with the plates. Richard watched her movements. He loved to watch her when she was annoyed or slightly angry. She was a bit more animated than usual. The sound of her step was harsher, but she tended to sway her hips in a defiant manner. It was really quite intoxicating. Even when he was angry with her, he couldn't help but smile – which usually only angered her further.

Emily came back into the room and proceeded to gather the second set of dishes. "Are you going to stand in here now and do nothing?" she asked. When she got no reply, she rolled her eyes as she carefully picked up the second place setting. She was completely taken aback when she felt Richard slide his arms around her waist. She dropped the plate she had in her hands onto the table. It didn't break, but it fell onto the plate below it, which moved slightly and thus knocked over the wine glass next to it. The delicate glass hit the wooden table and cracked immediately.

"Richard!" she struggled against him. "You've caused me to break the glass! Let go of me!" She tried to shake him off of her, but he didn't let go. Instead, he started kissing her neck. "Stop it," she continued to protest. This was neither the right time nor the place for such behavior.

"Be quiet, Emily," he commanded as he held her tightly against him, her hair brushing against his face as he kissed down her neck. She squirmed, trying to free herself. Yet the stern tone of his voice quieted her. "Good girl," he whispered in her ear in a tone that sent a shiver through her body. The sound of his voice still excited her after so many years, especially when he would whisper provocative suggestions in her ear. He could tell that she was giving in to his advances and thus loosened his grip from her waist and slid his right hand up her torso. The silk of her blouse was cool against his fingers. His hand rubbed against her breast and she exhaled heavily.

"Not here, Richard," she protested, trying to gently push his hands off of her body.

"Yes, here," he replied, taking both of her wrists in his hands. She tried to fight against him for a moment, but he was of far superior strength than she and there was no use in wasting her energy. He turned her around to face him. They looked at each other for a moment. Her breathing was a bit heavier than usual. He slid one hand around her waist and the other behind her neck as his lips crushed against hers. She placed her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly. He pushed her back against the table and the sound of the dishes rattling as the impact of their bodies shook the table made her cringe.

"Richard, please! You're going to break every dish we own!"

"I said be quiet, Emily." This time he said it more forcefully than before. The tone of his voice startled her. She had only ever heard him speak that way to Lorelai when she was a child and he was scolding her for being disobedient. She knew that he would never harm her, but nevertheless her heart began to beat faster. He had her pinned her against the table and slowly began to unbutton her shirt. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, too entranced to stop him from undressing her. "Can't we go upstairs?" she asked, quietly, hoping to relocate to a more comfortable, and appropriate, location.

He ignored her plea and pushed her down onto the table. Her head slightly grazed another glass and it also fell against the table. "Richard!" She winced, but the glass didn't shatter and only rolled across the table. With one hand, he cleared the contents from the table. The fine china fell to the floor with a loud crash. "This is insane, Richard, let me go!" She tried to free herself from his grasp. What in the world had overcome him to cause him to act so irrationally? She couldn't figure it out. "Those dishes cost a fortune, Richard! We shouldn't even eat off them at the price they charge and you've just thrown them onto the floor!" This was not his usual behavior and she was debating in her mind what to do. He had broken the china and was now pinning her against the dining room table. It was absurd! They hadn't acted in this manner even when they were much, much younger.

Richard could tell that her anger was brewing. He tried not to smile. However, he loved it when she was mad. Well, not mad, but fired up. Not that making love wasn't always enjoyable, but it was always a bit more exciting and daring when she was worked up about something. They'd had many enjoyable nights back when Lorelai was a teenager and they'd argue over how to punish her behavior. He finished unbuttoning her shirt and grasping her arms, pulled her into an upright position. He leaned forward to kiss her. It was a gentle, warm kiss and he could feel her soften. He pulled away from her ever so slightly so as to look into her eyes.

"Do you trust me, Emily?" he asked softly. She nodded her assent, seeming to have forgotten about the cost of the broken dishes. He kissed her again. "Then relax," he whispered. "I would never do anything to hurt you." She smiled knowing that he was right and kissed him. Sliding her tongue into his mouth, her hands found their way to his belt. Within moments, his pants and boxer shorts had been cast aside. Emily glanced down at his erection. It still amazed her sometimes that her sixty year-old body could excite him. With all the young girls he was surrounded by nearly every day, he still somehow found her appealing after forty years of marriage and the familiar routine of being with the same woman every night.

She could feel him staring at her and looked up and into his gaze. "My darling Emmy," he said softly as if he could read her thoughts. His hands slid up her skirt and she lifted her hips so that he could remove her panties. This morning she had felt in the mood to forgo hose and she was now grateful for that decision. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her closer to him. Emily reached out her hand to guide him into her, but he pushed her hand aside. Rather forcefully, he thrust into her with one quick stroke.

Emily gasped in surprise, collapsing against the table beneath her. Richard held her leg, grasping her thigh as he thrust against her. Her deep moans excited him and enticed him to be a bit more forceful with each thrust. Finally, she cried out, her hands grabbing the table runner beneath her body. Richard gently extended her left leg, placing her ankle on his shoulder. Her right leg was balanced against a chair. She was amazingly fit for her age.

Richard looked down at her as he thrust into her again. She had knocked over the vase in the middle of the table, but she didn't seem to have noticed that her shoulder and part of her hair were wet. He slid his hands up the sides of her body and took her hands in his own. She opened her eyes to look up at him as he stopped thrusting against her so intensely. Her chest moved up and down rapidly and she was unsuccessfully trying to catch her breath.

"Don't stop," she breathlessly conceded. The sound of her deep voice excited him and he thrust against her harder than before. Her head rolled back against the table with a thud as her eyes slid shut. She didn't know how much time had passed by, but she suddenly felt Richard lifting her from the table. His hands slid behind her back and as he pulled her against him, she could feel him pushing deeper into her. Her legs slid around his waist as he lifted her from the table. Her arms found their way around his neck and she tightened her grasp as she felt herself reaching her climax. Richard came at nearly the same time and she buried her face in his shoulder to stifle the sound that escaped her.

They clung to each other for a moment before Richard sat her back down on the table. She released her legs from around his waist and he pulled away from her. Emily fell back onto her elbows, ultimately collapsing against the table as she tried to regain her breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly for a few moments more before she was finally able to fill her lungs with enough air. She pushed herself up off the table and her feet hit the floor. In that time, Richard had found his boxer shorts.

He looked down at his wife as she stood and pulled her skirt down to her knees. Her hair was wildly out of place and she looked utterly adorable in her disheveled state. Her blouse was hanging open in the front and yet the wet fabric clung to her back. He suddenly noticed that her bra was made of black lace. She looked up at him. With her bare feet, she was significantly shorter than he. He slid his arm around her waist and leaned down to kiss her. She blushed slightly, a bit embarrassed by their brazen behavior. Richard could see the faint blush on her cheeks. It warmed his heart and he kissed her again.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

"I'm in awe," he stated.

She laughed uncomfortably. "Richard Gilmore," she commented with a humorous tone in her voice as she looked past him. It was then that she remembered the broken dishes and the chipped glasses that littered the dining room floor.

Richard pulled her into his arms. They held each other for a few minutes more, neither wanting to let go. When they did let go, they would be their usual selves again and go back to their normal routines. Richard would once again become busy with his work and teaching duties at Yale. Emily would find herself wrapped up in her social events and volunteer projects. They'd see each other not even over dinner, for Richard would usually be too busy to make it home in time. She would try and stay up late once or twice a week to greet him when he finally made it home. Otherwise, they would see each other in the morning before he left for work. Yet in this moment they were just two people still deeply in love with one another after more than forty years.

"Let's go to bed," Richard suggested.

"I'm not tired and besides, it's only just past eight o'clock!"

"I didn't suggest that we go to sleep, Emily." A smile spread across her face. They hadn't made love twice in one night since … well, she couldn't remember the last time they'd done that.

"A shower would be nice," she suggested. Richard agreed, leading them towards the doorway. Emily looked back at the table.

"What do we do about this mess, Richard?" They both turned to look at the mess they had made of the dining room. The glass vase of orchids in the middle of the table had somehow fallen over and spilled across the table. It was shattered into dozens of pieces. The table runner was wet and broken pieces of china and glass covered both the floor and table.

"Let the maid get in it in the morning," Richard suggested nonchalantly.

"Richard! What will she think?"

"She certainly won't guess that we made passionate love on the table." Emily blushed again and Richard smiled slightly. "You'll think of something to tell her, Emily." They looked at their mess once more before heading upstairs to continue the evening.

True to their normal routines the week progressed as usual. Friday night the family sat gathered around the table discussing whether or not it was the Finkelsteins or the Sullivans who had left Hartford twenty-five years ago to move to San Diego. Lorelai said they had two kids, a son and a daughter. Yet Emily remembered two daughters. Richard didn't remember any of them, Sullivans or Finkelsteins.

"Hey, Mom," Lorelai interjected into the conversation. "There's a crack in my wine glass."

"Oh, is there?" Emily looked up from her plate to the glass her daughter was holding up. She could see Richard across the table, a slight smirk on his face. Refusing to look directly at him, she took the glass from her daughter. "I'll get you another one, dear."

"I could probably use a new glass, too, Grandma."

"What?" Emily asked, standing up to examine Rory's glass.

"This one has a crack in it, too." She held it up to the light. Indeed, it too was cracked down the side.

"I thought I told Marguerite to get rid of these glasses," Emily complained. "That girl never listens to a word I say! I swear English must not be her first language!"

Lorelai laughed. "Did you and Dad get into some sort of wine glass throwing fight? The steak was overdone and so you started breaking glasses against each other's heads?" Lorelai joked with an absurd laugh. The idea of her parents acting like that was ridiculous, which only made it funnier. Well, funny to her.

"Something like that," Emily commented, walking past her to the kitchen. As her mother disappeared from the room, Lorelai looked to her father at the other end of the table. The look that had passed between he and her mother as she exited the room sent a chill down Lorelai's spine. She didn't want to know what it meant.


End file.
